


Servant of None

by Minted_Midas



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Merlin (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e06 A Servant of Two Masters, Friendship, Gen, Whump, someone help these poor boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minted_Midas/pseuds/Minted_Midas
Summary: What if Merlin was never truly saved from the fomorroh? Years may have passed but a daily potion is still all that stands between him and the serpent’s corruption. When a peacekeeping mission goes awry, will Merlin be able to keep the darkness at bay or will Arthur and the knights be forced to make a terrible decision?
Relationships: Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 107
Kudos: 223





	1. Slipping

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Without his Daily Remedy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980500) by [DollopheadedMerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin). 



The trip had been rather uneventful; an occurrence perhaps even rarer than Arthur admitting to a mistake. Queen Annis had been more than welcoming, and the peace talks had gone smoothly. Even the usually troublesome knights had managed to keep in line for once. So, of course, it only made sense that their journey back to Camelot would be rather more fraught.

“Just our luck,” muttered Arthur, pulling his horse to a stop in front of the rockfall which blocked their path through the mountains. 

The rest of the group bit back a groan as they settled in front of the rubble.

“Do you reckon this was Morgana’s doing?” Elyan queried, alert eyes scanning the surrounding cliffs.

“I don’t think so,” sighed the king, “Chances are we just got unlucky.”

“I _knew_ this trip was going too well,” griped Gwaine, eyeing the boulders accusingly.

Arthur pulled his mouth into a tight line.

“Looks like we’re going the long way around.”

A grumble went up from the group, all except Merlin who looked surprisingly upbeat about the whole situation.

“It can’t be that bad!” the servant enthused, “The forest is far more scenic then this desolate mountain, that’s for sure. I’ve heard Gwynedd has some of the most spectacular forests in all of Albion.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, already turning his horse back the way they’d come.

“Well I’m glad _Princess Merlin_ is happy,” he responded sardonically, earning a dry chuckle from the rest of the knights as they began their descent into the dense woods below.

\- - -

Merlin wasn’t wrong, the woods were vivid and lively; though he wouldn’t be caught admitting that to the already cheerful servant. Unfortunately, the peace was hard to enjoy with Gwaine’s constant and nonsensical nattering in his ear.

The roguish knight only paused between stories to hold out his wineskin to Percival, who gave a quiet smirk before taking a swig; a decision the larger knight seemed to quickly regret.

“God, what is that?!” he spluttered.

Gwaine grinned wolfishly.

“Haven’t the foggiest, but let me tell you, the brewers of Caerleon never do anything by half measures. The stronger the better. Folks after my own heart, if you’re asking me.”

“Gwaine," Leon chastised, without even a backward glance, "I have enough on my hands with one drunk knight, you better not be encouraging the others.” 

The offending knight cast a look of mock exasperation towards Merlin, who tried his best to hide a chuckle as he absent-mindedly rubbed at the back of his neck. However, his amusement quickly faltered as his attention was drawn by movement on the path ahead.

A few feet down the track, the vegetation rustled and lurched. Arthur pulled his horse to a sudden stop just in time to avoid a wayward stag, which burst onto the path; crashing through the dense foliage to meet them with large fearful eyes. Merlin’s steed panicked, rearing with a cry of alarm, sending her unfortunate rider crashing onto the hard ground below. Equally frightened by the commotion, the frantic buck darted away leaving behind it a scene of disarray. Arthur cursed as he hurriedly dismounted, moving to his fallen friend’s side.

Merlin groaned wearily as he sat up. Holding a grazed hand to his head, he blinked owlishly at the scene; bandages, herbs and glass littering the ground around him. Merlin's forehead creased in confusion, before his eyes finally landed on his fallen pack. He held back another groan. _The medical supplies…_ Taking Arthur’s offered hand he pulled himself to his feet, staggering slightly as his brain caught up to what he was seeing.

“Merlin, are you ok?”

_Glass? Why was there glass?_

Merlin baulked, a deep pit of dread opening in his stomach as he mentally took itinerary of the damaged items. _Oh no no no, his potions!_ He could only stare in horror as the last few drops soaked into the unforgiving ground.

Someone was talking to him, but he could barely concentrate. The words seemed muffled, deafened by the panic which had begun to creep into his heart. Everything was pulled sharply into focus as Arthur grabbed the sides of his head.

“Merlin, you with me?”

The servant blinked at him, dazed.

“I uh, yeah,” he croaked out, “Sorry, just a bit caught off guard is all.”

Arthur glared at him, apparently unconvinced as he followed Merlin’s unfocused gaze.. 

“If you’re worried about the medical supplies, we can see about stopping at a nearby town to restock if you’d like.”

“No!” Merlin spluttered, slightly too loudly, earning himself a concerned glance from the rest of the knights. He didn’t care; he was already against the clock. The potion needed to be taken daily to effectively subdue the fomorroh. Everyday they delayed getting back to Camelot- back to Gaius- could be catastrophic. 

“It’s fine, really,” he placated, more calmly, “I’m just a bit dazed. We’re close enough to Camelot that we should be fine without a few _bandages_.”

The king looked him over with a critical eye. Physically, the fall didn’t seem to have caused any serious harm; a fact for which he was quietly grateful.

“You sure you’re ok?” queried Gwaine, uncharacteristically stoic.

“I’m fine,” stressed Merlin, making towards his, now much calmer steed, “It’s not like I haven’t fallen off a horse before!”

The knights exchanged a look as Merlin mounted hastily. They, better than anyone, knew the stubbornness of the king’s servant.

“Come on,” Merlin called back at them, “Are we going or what?”

Arthur sighed, giving a slight nod to the knights to remount.

“I thought I gave the orders around here?” he griped, hoping to draw a witty retort from the, still rather shell-shocked looking servant.

But Merlin only met his complaint with a pressed looking glare, his eyes flitting anxiously back towards the soiled supplies. Arthur frowned, clambering onto his mount before urging it forward, quietly resolved to keep an eye on the stubborn young man.

As the damaged goods disappeared in their wake, Merlin couldn’t help but feel a cold shroud of fear settle over him.

\- - -

The rest of the day passed without incident. It hadn’t been long before Gwaine had picked his chatter back up, though Arthur couldn’t help but notice the lack of usually excited exclamations from his servant. When Merlin did chime in from time to time it sounded forced. He was quiet and jumpy, and while anyone else would put his behaviour down to the recent tumble, Arthur couldn’t help but feel something else was at play; something he couldn’t seem to place. 

As the air chilled and the sky began to darken, Arthur signalled the knights to make camp; his concerns quickly slipping away into exhaustion. Sleep came easy to the group after a day spent riding, or at least it did to most of them. 

Merlin gazed into the dying embers of the smouldering fire, heart heavy with dread. Without his medicine, the morning would herald the onset of the fomorroh’s influence. His mind swam with potential scenarios, each worse than the last. The warlock shuddered involuntarily. He would fight it, of course he would, but there was no telling how long he would be able to keep it at bay. 

Arthur muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep and Merlin fought back a sad smile. The thought that he had been weaponized against his closest friend was almost too much to bear thinking about. But still his mind raced onwards. How long could he really hold the serpent back? 

Suppressing the urge to cry out in frustration, he resigned himself to a long and bitter night.

\- - -

Merlin was already awake by the time Arthur roused himself from his slumber.

“So you are capable of getting up early!” Arthur teased.

Merlin turned slowly to glare at him with tired eyes. The king’s mirth wavered as he took in the servant’s dishevelled appearance.

“Merlin, mate, you look terrible,” chimed in Gwaine, voicing Arthur’s concerns from the comfort of his own bedroll, “Did you get any sleep at all?”

Merlin pouted slightly, apparently unaware of the unusually dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh um, just a bit of insomnia is all,” he replied meekly, pawing tiredly at his eyes “Gaius gave me a potion for it, but it uh- smashed when I fell. Don’t worry about it.”

Arthur’s forehead creased and Merlin could only hope he believed the half-truth. Gwaine, at the very least, looked sympathetic to his plight. Uneasy under the pair’s gaze, Merlin moved to wake up the rest of the knights.

“Onwards and upwards you lot!” he called, hoping his false enthusiasm might detract from his haggard appearance. 

If any of the knights noticed his sickly pallor, they knew better than to bring it up. Arthur at the very least seemed partially appeased by his explanation, though Merlin couldn’t help but prickle at the way the king’s quietly concerned gaze still lingered. Spurred on by Merlin’s eagerness to get moving, it wasn’t long before the group was once more saddled up and ready to go.

\- - -

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Merlin, although still quite jumpy, seemed to perk up somewhat once they were on the move; even entertaining some of Gwaine’s more ridiculous stories in his attempts to distract himself. However, it was about halfway through the day when Arthur noticed that his manservant had fallen completely silent. Turning in his saddle, he attempted to subtly glance back. 

Arthur was surprised to see Merlin riding so far from him; hunched tensely atop his mount. The servant’s eyes seemed deep in concentration, but even ignoring that, he looked positively ill. A knot of worry tightened in Arthur’s stomach. He would have to give Merlin a look over once they stopped for the night.

Burdened with his anxiety, the afternoon seemed to stretch endlessly; but eventually the sky began to shimmer with the tell tale colours of sunset. 

“This seems as good a place to stop as any,” remarked Arthur, as they pulled into a cosy looking clearing; the sound of a nearby river doing little to soothe his nerves.

Ignorant to the king’s worries, the knights began to dismount, swiftly making themselves at home in the leaf littered hollow. Gwaine offered Merlin a hand off his horse, which the exhausted servant took appreciatively. The normally cheerful knight caught Arthur’s eye with a worried glance as he helped Merlin to a nearby log.

“You look properly rotten, my friend,” Gwaine chided, “Do you want me to grab you some water? Maybe something a little stronger?”

Merlin shook his head wearily, dull eyes firmly fixed on the forest floor. The knight crouched watching his friend with growing concern.

“What’s up with you? Anything I can do?”

“Gwaine… Please just go away.”

Arthur felt the rest of the camp stiffen. Merlin almost sounded scared, a fact which unnerved Arthur more than he could say. Merlin didn’t _do_ scared… Gwaine and Merlin were an undeniably tight duo, and while the latter could be incredibly stubborn, there was no denying that if anyone could get through to him it’d be Gwaine. For Merlin to rebuff his friend so directly suggested that he was a long way from okay. 

The knight in question cast a concerned and helpless glance back at the group, who seemed to finally be catching on to the severity of the situation.

Arthur strode towards the pair, a determined spark in his eye.

“Merlin, stop being such a stubborn idiot. Would you just tell us what’s going on with you?” 

The servant leapt up in alarm, backing away from the advancing king with wide fearful eyes. He froze, retreat halted as his back came up against a tree. 

“Don’t! Arthur, seriously just go away!”

“I’m the king, you can’t just-”

“I said GO AWAY!”

Arthur baulked, staring at the shaking servant in alarm. Merlin’s breathing came quick and desperate.

“Merlin-”

“Please, I can’t be near you right now,” the terrified man pleaded, sinking to the ground.

“What! Why? Merlin, what’s going on?” Arthur pressed, trying his best to maintain a calm facade over his racing heart.

Shakily the servant met his eyes.

“Because I’m going to try to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! Here we go! Apologies if this chapter seemed a bit clunky. I sorta crammed as much setup into one chapter as I could. Hoping to have an update for you every week or so.


	2. Time Bomb

Arthur's heart caught in his throat.

“Wh- Merlin, what on earth are you saying…” he fumbled, “ This is ridiculous!”

“No Arthur, you have to listen to me!” pleaded Merlin looking more unwell by the moment, “Please, you’re in danger!”

“You’re delirious. I know you’d never hurt me.” Arthur asserted, trying to calm the distraught man almost as much as himself.

“I don’t want to! God, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stop it!”

“Merlin, just-”

“A year ago, the Valley of the Fallen Kings,” interrupted Merlin with a pained grimace, eyes desperate for Arthur to listen, “I was injured, and when mercenaries attacked you were forced to leave me behind. Do you remember?”

Arthur paled at the memory, head spinning as to why the hysterical servant decided to bring it up now, of all times.

“Two weeks later, I showed up out of the blue, alive and apparently uninjured,” he continued manically, “You all assumed I’d gotten ridiculously lucky or been saved by druids. But that’s not what happened… It was Morgana who found me.”

The temperature in the clearing seemed to drop even further. Arthur could feel the blood drain from him as the servant dragged a hand over his own face with a humourless laugh.

“Have you ever heard of a fomorroh?”

Arthur felt Gwaine and Percival stiffen at the name, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the increasingly frenzied servant. 

“It’s a creature of dark magic that is used to control the mind. It sucks away your entire being, leaving you with only one goal… And well, Morgana is nothing if not one-track-minded. Words cannot describe how much she wants you dead, Arthur.”

A cold hand of dread clenched at the king’s heart as the puzzle pieces slotted into place.

“Oh shit.”

Merlin shuddered, suppressed a whimper as a wave of pain wracked his body.

“I don’t remember what happened after that,” he gasped, “When I next came to, two days had passed; two days which I’d apparently spent trying to kill you. Gaius and Gwen managed to catch on and stop me, but it was a close run thing.”

From behind him, Arthur swore he heard a panicked Leon mutter something about a crossbow. Merlin’s hand drifted unconsciously to the back of his neck.

“They couldn’t remove the fomorroh… No matter what they did it just kept growing back stronger. But eventually, Gaius was able to make a temporary antidote which I could take everyday to keep the serpent at bay. I’ve been taking it ever since. It’s the only thing which has kept me- Well, me! But, when the medical supplies went down...”

Arthur’s mind drifted back to the shattered glass and Merlin’s equalled shattered expression at the sight of it. His head felt like it might burst.

“How long has it been since you last took it?” Arthur finally managed.

“Almost two days.”

“Jesus christ,” breathed Elyan.

Arthur finally worked up the courage to glance back at the shell-shocked knights. The four of them looked almost as anxious as he felt. Arthur wanted to kick himself for not coming to Merlin’s aid sooner, despite his logic warning that the end result would have been the same. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream his frustration at the sky- at Merlin, the stubborn idiot. Of course he’d gone and gotten himself kidnapped. Of course he’d internalise the whole ordeal and never say a word to anyone. That’s just who he was!

A soft cry stole him from his downward spiral. Arthur fixed his tortured gaze on the man before him. They didn’t have time to waste on his inner monologue. He was the king damnit! If he could just get everything under control-

“I can’t fight it much longer…” a too small voice whimpered.

Arthur’s brain kicked into gear.

“Leon, I need the rope. Now!”

Jarred into action the knight dashed for his pack. Gwaine moved to Arthur’s side, face pale and serious.

“Is that really the best idea?” he challenged, eyes fixed on Merlin.

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” retorted Arthur, voice wavering slightly, “We’re not very well going to leave him!”

The normally cheerful knight nodded stoically. Merlin attempted to sit up, watching Arthur with barely contained panic.

“It’s too risky. Just kill-”

“Merlin, I swear to god!” Arthur roared, “If you tell me to kill you, I will- I will-”

“Kill me?” Merlin suggested helpfully.

“Oh shut up! I was _going_ to say, rat you out to Gwen!”

The topic was thankfully dropped as Leon returned, a sizable bundle of rope in hand. Arthur thanked their stars that they’d decided to even bring it. Steeling himself against the impending situation, he took a deep breath.

“Leon, Percival, I need you to tie him up.”

The pair hesitated, looking over the man in question with something as equally akin to pity as fear.

“Now!”

With a start, the knights set to work.

“I’m sorry,” Percival whispered, earning a sad smile from Merlin.

“I’m sorry too.”

Arthur had to turn away. As much as they liked to jest otherwise, Merlin had always been the rock of the group. To see him like this… It was just so wrong. How had everything gone so wrong? Gwaine met his eye with a similarly distraught expression as the rope wound tighter and tighter around the servant’s slight form. 

No sooner had the rope been secured than Merlin cried out in pain sending Percival and Leon skittering back in alarm. The restrained servant tried his best to curl in on himself, the last of his resolve being stretched to its limit.

“Merlin?!” cried Arthur, unable to hide his concern.

The man heaved a shaking breath, lifting his gaze to the knights.

“You can’t let me get to Arthur,” Merlin warned, voice tired yet commanding, “No matter what it tells you... It will do whatever it takes and it will not stop until he is dead. You can’t let me get to him. Do you understand?”

The knights gave a shaky nod.

“You have our word,” replied Elyan, trying his best to sound more composed than he felt, “We’ll make sure you get through this unharmed as well. You’re our friend too, afterall.”

Merlin cast the knights a look of quiet gratitude before pain once more racked his slender frame. Arthur felt the whole group wince. Gwaine strode forward to crouch in front of the bound man.

“You’re safe now. Arthur’s safe. You can stop fighting it,” he soothed, expression pleading.

“I don’t want to…” replied Merlin, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want to become that thing. You don’t understand, there’s nothing there! It’s like I cease to exist and some other creature just goes shambling away.”

For once in his life, Gwaine didn’t know what to say. He could only watch in barely concealed anguish as Merlin’s struggles became weaker and weaker, before ceasing all together.

“I’m sorry,” breathed the servant.

Darkness consumed him as he fell limp in his bonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up folks, it's about to get messy. Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	3. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

The silence was unbearable. 

No one uttered a word, as if doing so would shatter the fragile figure bound before them. Arthur reminded himself to breathe, his mind fleetingly wondering how they’d come to this. He’d faced down far more fearsome foes, yet he couldn’t shake the panic that had latched a hold of him. If there was one constant in his life, it was Merlin. Yet, it seemed even that had to be thrust forcefully from his control. 

Merlin started violently. The knights flinched as the servant jolted awake, eyes wide and fearful.

“What- What’s going on?”

_Oh God, it sounded just like him._

Desperate and confused, the man strained against the rope, before turning a panicked gaze on the group.

“Guys, you’re scaring me. Why am I tied up?!”

He could feel the knights shift anxiously behind him. It felt like someone was twisting a knife into Arthur’s heart, but he refused to let the internal conflict show on his face. 

“It’s for your own good,” he deadpanned coldly.

“What do you mean?” Merlin spluttered in apparent confusion.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

The prisoner’s brow furrowed.

“What did he tell you? That wasn’t me, Arthur.”

The group froze, confused silence falling over the clearing.

“Oh god!” Merlin exclaimed, a look of horror falling over his features, “He probably told you I’m the bad one didn’t he! He played you!”

Arthur had a sinking feeling in his chest. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? 

“You’re lying,” he asserted.

“I- Arthur you have to believe me. You know me better than anyone.”

The king gritted his teeth. It just wasn’t adding up. Something in his heart told him this couldn’t possibly be the real Merlin but at the same time he couldn’t deny the genuine desperation that shone in his friend’s eyes.

“Arthur? Gwaine?”

“Stop,” Arthur warned, unable to hide the way his voice shook with doubt.

Merlin turned a heated yet desperate gaze on him.

“You’re in danger, you clotpole! He could have done anything when he was in control,” he pressed on, “I’m not sure what type of traps he could have set, but needless to say every moment we waste could be fatal. You have to believe me!”

The knights cast Arthur an anxious glance. All except Gwaine whose pensive gaze had yet to leave the struggling man. It really sounded just like Merlin; always with a warning or theory on his tongue. _You’re in danger, you clotpole!_ Christ, he even used his words. Yet for all his doubts, Arthur could bring himself to believe the prisoner was who he claimed to be. Something was just...off.

Picking up on the king’s mounting distrust, Merlin’s eyes widened in panic.

“Arthur… I swear I’m telling the truth! We need to get out of here, now. Please don’t just leave me tied up. It’s me!”

Gwaine cracked.

“It’s going to be alright mate,” he soothed, expression conflicted, “The rope’s just a precaution.”

“It hurts, Gwaine…” Merlin responded meekly.

The knight looked pained as he bit his tongue. Unable to bear the servant’s quiet struggles, Percival shuffled forward.

“Sire, what if we at least loosened the ropes a bit. I fear we may have made them excessively tight. If that really is Merlin-”

Arthur started.

“No, remember what Merlin said! The serpent will do whatever it takes. It’s crafty. This has to be a trap!”

Gwaine cast him a hesitant look.

“But do we know that was really Merlin in the first place?”

Arthur gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he floundered for words.

“Of course it was… I don’t know how to explain it. I just know it. This isn’t Merlin!”

He sounded about as sure as he felt and his confidence wavered as Gwaine raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

Merlin shuffled and writhed against the ropes, seemingly becoming more agitated with every passing moment. He gasped quietly in pain, raising his eyes to meet his king’s.

“Arthur please,” Merlin pleaded pitifully, “What would Gwen say?”

Alarms went off in Arthur’s brain. _What would Gwen say?_ Since when did Merlin play the Gwen card? It was a low blow, even by the standards of this situation. Merlin knew better than to bring her into decisions or to force his hand; he was too good for that. Arthur’s heart hardened. 

_That manipulative bastard._

“Gwaine might be right sire,” chimed in Leon, ripping Arthur from his thoughts, “This feels wrong.”

“No, it’s not,” stated Arthur, eyes filled with renewed determination, “I’m telling you, that’s not Merlin!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gwaine’s gaze darken as he looked between the king and his manservant.

“How can you be so sure? Just because you’re the king doesn’t mean you’re always right,” the roguish knight muttered.

Arthur turned on Gwaine with an incredulous gaze.

“You can’t be serious. He’s manipulating you!”

Merlin ( _no, not Merlin_ ) cried out in pain, curling in on himself around his bonds. 

“Please, it’s too tight! It hurts,” he wailed,”Just let me out! How can you not see that it’s me?!”

Arthur grimaced in pained frustration as he whirled on the imposter.

“Would you shut up?!”

Something pushed him. Not hard, but enough that the king staggered slightly. Flicking his gaze upwards in shock, he met the outraged glare of Gwaine. The knight had apparently come to his own conclusions.

“Arthur, you are out of line!”

“Excuse me?! Would you open your eyes for a moment? He’s using your feelings towards Merlin against you!”

“I think you’re seeing what you want to see. You can never just admit when you’ve made a mistake, especially when it comes to Merlin!”

“That’s not fair and you know it!” Arthur all but growled.

The knights watched on in quiet horror, none willing to make a call on the servant’s fate. Who were they to speak for him, when even the two men who knew him best were at odds?

A distressed whimper cut through the hostility.

“Please, stop fighting,” Merlin begged, “I can’t bear to see you two tear each other apart over me! If you would just untie me-” 

Arthur snapped.

“If you think playing to my sympathies will get you anywhere, you’re bitterly mistaken!” he roared, “I know Merlin better than I know myself and you sure as hell aren’t him! So if you won’t shut your goddamn mouth, I’ll shut it for you!”

The entire group looked taken aback. The servant gave him an incredulous look.

“I never knew you could be so cruel, Arthur,” he breathed, eyes wide and sorrowful.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Merlin’s face twisted into a dark and hateful sneer.

“I guess you’re just like your father after all,” he hissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's snake time!


	4. Duality

It was like the air had been sucked from the clearing. Gwaine took an unconscious step backwards, wide fearful eyes on the servant. Arthur knew he should feel triumphant that he had caught the snake in it’s own game, but his mind was too consumed by the murderous expression that marred Merlin’s ordinarily kind face. Part of him desperately wished he’d been wrong, but it was too late for that now. This wasn’t Merlin anymore. This was something far more sinister.

In any other situation he might have slammed Gwaine with a self-satisfied ‘I told you so’, but as it stood he could barely muster a pointed glare in the knight’s direction. Gwaine, for his part, had gone rather pale as he stared at the imposter with dawning horror. An expression mirrored by the rest of the knights.

Not-Merlin smirked.

“Sorry to disappoint, Gwaine,” he lilted, with a decidedly un-Merlin-like chuckle, “But I must say that was a rather fun little charade.”

Gwaine looked like he was about to be sick.

The prisoner let his head lull to the side to better fix Arthur once more with his hungry gaze.

“Hello again, _sire_.”

Arthur’s gaze hardened, not trusting himself to speak just yet, as the imposter gave a mocking pout.

“Oh come on, don’t you remember me? You were so happy to see me last time we met!” he continued, eyes predatory despite his broad grin,”I may have been covered in mud but you were all smiles and hugs regardless.”

Arthur’s stomach churned as the memory sprung to mind; ordinarily one he held close to his heart. Something inside him broke a little at the realisation that one of his best memories of Merlin hadn’t been Merlin at all...

“I must have mistaken you for someone else,” Arthur gritted coldly.

“Well that’s a shame, isn’t it,” the serpent lamented, not sounding concerned in the slightest as his eyes scanned the group critically.

Wary and outright frightened eyes stared back at him. Merlin let out a scoff.

“Would you look at that? Camelot’s finest scared of little old me. My my, how the mighty have fallen,” he admonished, in mock scandal, “What would _Uther_ think?” 

Leon cast an agitated glance at his king who managed to stiffen even further than he had been before. Merlin’s dangerous eyes flitted once more to Arthur.

“I wonder if Uther would be proud of what you’ve become?” the serpent pondered icily.

“Don’t,” Arthur warned.

“I doubt it,” Merlin continued, unperturbed as he eyed the king calculatingly, “Not nearly enough bloodshed. Nowhere near enough innocent deaths. And that goes without even mentioning your sorry excuse for knights.”

Arthur fought to maintain his composure as his temper flared. He wasn’t sure if it was the words themselves that cut so deeply or the fact that they were coming from Merlin's mouth.

“You know nothing of my father,” he bristled, despite himself.

“I don’t _need_ to. All I have to do is look at his son to tell you he was a monster. Like father like son, wouldn’t you say?” he hissed, cold eyes boring into Arthur’s.

Arthur’s eyes darkened, expression turning fiery despite his logic crying out that this was exactly what the serpent was aiming for. Across the group, Leon fought down the uncomfortable thought that in that moment, Arthur really did look like his father.

“Oh Leon gets it,” Merlin jabbed, eyes flashing with fiendish delight.

Leon blanched, driving the offending thought deep into his subconscious as if Merlin could somehow read his mind. His nerves quailed under the imposter’s inhuman perceptiveness, as he attempted to cast his king a contradictory expression. Arthur spared him a furtive glance, but his own bravado was beginning to waver. _This wasn’t what Merlin actually thought, was it?_

“Arthur is _not_ his father!” 

Arthur blinked in surprise as a defiant voice cut through the silence. Even Merlin hesitated for a moment before turning his cold-blooded gaze on the offending knight. Purposefully, Gwaine strode forward, eyes bold as he moved to stand by Arthur. A part of Arthur’s confidence felt bolstered by the often disobedient knight’s faith, but that little spark seemed to be overshadowed as he watched his servant’s face. The smirk was back.

“Well well someone changed their tune quickly,” Merlin tutted, “Stepping up to defend your king. How very _noble_ of you.”

Gwaine hesitated, disquieted by the speed with which he’d found himself in the serpent’s cross-hairs. 

“It’s only fitting isn’t it. You’ve really come full circle,” Merlin continued, doubling-down, “Imagine my amusement to stumble upon a disgraced noble with a fierce hatred of nobles. What fun! For all your childish rebellion, you still followed in your father’s footsteps in the end.”

Gwaine felt eyes on him. He tensed, unwilling to meet the interrogating eyes of the rest of the round table. His heart raced unbidden. _How could it know?_ If the serpent had access to everything Merlin knew, they could be in a hell of a lot more trouble than they anticipated. 

Merlin’s eyes glinted menacingly.

“I mean really, what a _hypocrite_!”exclaimed the prisoner, voice turning cruel,”You’ve become everything you tried to escape. I trusted you and you left me in the dirt. You wouldn’t even be a knight without me; nearly none of you would! Yet, the moment you became one, I stopped being your friend and started being another worthless servant.”

Gwaine took an involuntary step backwards. 

“Wh- It’s not like that!”

 _Merlin didn’t really think that, did he?!_ Their relationship had certainly changed since his knighthood, but he hadn’t thought it quite so marked. Though come to think of it, he hardly saw much of the man at all these days. Quiet fear nagged at him that perhaps Merlin had been falling apart right under his very nose and he’d never even noticed. Heck, they might not even be in this situation if he’d just kept a closer eye on Merlin in the first place!

“What happened to you Gwaine?” the servant hissed bitterly, “I thought you were better than that. But it seems you nobles only look out for yourselves. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you were a bit more like Lancelot…”

Gwaine felt like someone had punched him in the gut. A chorus of stifled gasps from behind him told him he wasn’t the only one surprised at the venom in the servant’s tone upon bringing up their old friend. Gwaine in particular knew the loyalty that Merlin could command, and Lancelot had always been a shining beacon of that loyalty. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t sting to think that the former knight had been more worthy of Merlin’s friendship. Heck, it stung to be reminded of the missing member of the round table in the first place.

“Still playing second fiddle to a dead man,” chided Merlin, seeming to voice Gwaine’s internal turmoil, “That’s gotta hurt.”

The knight grit his teeth, fiery eyes on his tormentor. This wasn’t Merlin; he couldn’t lose sight of that. In fact, Merlin would be horrified to hear his friend’s name used to hurt those he left behind. This creature disrespected Merlin more than anyone if it thought it could drive those who cared about him away with such empty words.  
Gwaine huffed, the comforting presence of Percival’s hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re a right manipulative bastard, aren’t you?!” Gwaine growled, “You use Merlin’s memories, but haven’t got the first clue what you’re actually talking about. We know the _real_ Merlin and I shudder to think what he’d feel to hear the crap you’re speaking through him. Merlin is brave and true-hearted, and by god if he isn’t everything that’s good in this world! If you think we’d abandon him or drive him away at the twisted words of some body-stealing snake, then you don’t know us as well as you think!”

An electric silence filled the clearing as Gwaine stared down the imposter, shoulders shuddering slightly with every breath.

The prisoner had the audacity to laugh; a chuckle so bitter and cruel that Gwaine struggled to believe Merlin capable of it. 

“Let me be clear,” disparaged the imposter, a dark glint in his eye, “No matter what you may believe, you _don’t_ know me, but boy oh boy do I know you. I know what strings to pull. I know what buttons to press. That’s all me. That’s all _Merlin_. The snake and I are not as separate as you may want to believe...”

“I’m not sure as little of me is Merlin as you would like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a dramatic bastard. Sorry for the late update this week! Life's been a tad hectic. The POV got a little messy in this chapter, but what can ya do? Hope you've enjoyed!


	5. Of Servants and Serpents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m not sure as little of me is Merlin as you would like.”_

“As if we’d believe that bullshit,” muttered Arthur. 

The knights’ glanced over in surprise. Even Merlin seemed to falter slightly at the king’s bluntness, swiftly covering his annoyance with a wicked sneer.

“Oh my dear Arthur, there is so much you don’t know.”

“Uh huh. What, so you’re just going to keep insulting us until we keel over from old age? Make up some dramatic lies to turn us all against each other?” he challenged, irritation apparent in his tone, “That’s all you have?”

“To tell the truth, I know a great deal of secrets you’d all probably rather I didn’t,” growled Merlin, gaze venomous, “I could make up lies to tear you apart, but what would be the fun in that when the truth is so much worse.”

Arthur scoffed.

“Secrets? You should know better than anyone that you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“Arthur,” warned Gwaine, seeing the hungry glint in Merlin’s eye.

But the king only continued to stare the servant down, brash determination apparently clouding his judgement. The prisoner raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Is that so?” mused Merlin, “So I wouldn’t happen to know any secrets involving the near murder of your father at your own hands then?”

Arthur froze, his confidence withering under the imposter’s knowing gaze. The knights, despite themselves, cast their king a wary glance. Arthur tried to ignore how impressed Gwaine looked, as Leon cast his anxious eyes downwards at the memory.

“That was a misunderstanding and you know it,” Arthur growled.

“Perhaps…” reflected the prisoner, a fire seeming to ignite behind his eyes, “But what if I told you it wasn’t.”

Arthur hesitated, brow furrowing in suspicion.

“You see, Morgause didn’t lie about what happened to your mother,” Merlin continued coldly, “It was me who really lied to you that day. Uther truly was the reason your mother died. We’d all have been better off if I’d just let you kill him.”

Arthur staggered back slightly.

“That’s not true…”

“Isn’t it? Even you’d have to admit, it makes a certain sort of sense.”

And it did… The Great Purge, Uther’s touchiness about the subject. Merlin’s face when he had stopped Arthur’s blade... The world felt like it was spinning dizzyingly quickly as Arthur fought to keep his head above the water.

Merlin chuckled darkly.

“Imagine that. How fitting it would be to have both your parents die at your own hand…”

Arthur charged forward with a roar, grabbing the servant’s collar in blind rage as he forced him back against the tree. The serpent met his gaze with something bordering on amusement. 

Arthur could only just make out the muffled cry of alarm from the knights behind him over the roaring of blood in his ears, but he refused to let his eyes leave the prisoner’s smug gaze.

“Go on, kill me. Isn’t that how you solve all your problems?”

Merlin’s eyes were cold, but reflected in them Arthur couldn’t ignore his own angry and desperate expression. Something inside him writhed to see such a look of hatred on his face after all this time; an expression he’d worn less and less in recent times, likely due to the influence of a certain manservant. Arthur’s face fell, eyes becoming frustrated and thoughtful.

“No,” he deadpanned, “You taught me better than that.”

Roughly releasing the servant’s collar, he turned to stalk back towards the knights only to be stopped by a surprisingly quiet voice from behind him.

“I tried to teach you, but try as you may, death always follows you Arthur.”

Arthur paused, back still to the prisoner.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you never wondered about the bloodshed that follows in your wake?” Merlin queried, voice sounding almost pitying yet still holding its mocking edge, “Whether you will it or not, people who cross you, even people who associate with you suffer…”

Arthur turned slowly to face the servant.

“Anyone who gets close to you pays a price Arthur,” Merlin explained, “You think I’m any different? For all your success, someone has to take the fall. Someone has to make the sacrifice.”

Merlin sneered, a deep rooted fury creeping over his face.

“You are an ignorant man indeed if you think you’d even be on that throne without me!”

Arthur gaped, confusion and alarm fighting for dominance in his expression.

The servant’s anger seemed to only increase as he met his friend’s conflicted gaze.

“You don’t see it do you? I’ve been beaten, kidnapped, humiliated, poisoned, all in your name. My heart stopped when I drank that poisoned chalice for you and again when I faced the dorocha. I watched my best friend take an arrow for you. I watched you kill the woman I love. All this when your family is the reason I never even had a father. Do you really think I’ve come out of this unscathed? Yet you treat me like nothing! Nothing!”

Arthur stared at the servant with open horror.

“That’s not true, is it?” whispered an incredulous Percival.

“I don’t- I didn’t-,” spluttered Arthur.

Gwaine’s eyes widened as he watched his king struggle to deny any of it.

“Do you even know him well enough to know if half of that is true?” prodded Gwaine, asking the question Arthur had been dreading to hear.

Arthur paled, his downcast eyes more than enough of an answer.

“Christ Arthur!” Gwaine shouted, “I don’t want to play right into his hands here, but do you really think you can get away with that?!”

“How could you treat him like that?” breathed a genuinely worried Elyan, as he stared between the men.

“I never knew!” exclaimed Arthur, still reeling from the servant’s outcry.

“Never knew, or were never enough of a man to confront it?” challenged Gwaine.

“I didn’t see _you_ doing anything about it!” lashed out Arthur, stress winning out over his better judgement.

Gwaine’s expression darkened as Elyan and Percival stirred anxiously at his side.

“Well I’m not the one who killed his girl, am I,” the roguish knight muttered.

Arthur stiffened, expression caught somewhere between outraged and distraught.

“Excuse me?” he challenged, taking a shaky step forward.

“You heard me,” deadpanned Gwaine, “You don’t get to just walk away from this like you always do.”

“Stop!” a new voice cried.

The pair baulked, eyes settling on Leon, his usually calm expression now warped into one of incredulity.

“Would you just listen to yourselves?” exclaimed the agitated knight, “You even said it yourself, Gwaine! You’re playing right into his hands! His goal is to kill Arthur. If he can’t get to him, ask yourself, what’s the next best thing for him to do?”

Gwaine and Arthur exchanged a wary look.

“Turn us against him,” breathed Elyan.

“Divide and conquer,” stated Leon in confirmation, mustering a stern expression to give each of the knights, “We cannot lose sight of the fact that this is not Merlin! What would he think to see you two fighting like this?”

A quiet smirk coloured Gwaine’s formerly bitter expression.

“He’d call us a load of dollopheads.”

Arthur huffed a tight chuckle.

“I should think he would!” agreed Leon, his anxiety easing somewhat, “This is a delicate situation. You two, of all people, should understand we can’t lose control of it.”

“What made you think that you were ever in control,” poked the serpent, apparently discontented at the lack of attention, “You never had the power here.”

“Yeah, says the one tied up,” muttered Gwaine, exhausted by their prisoner’s antics.

“That may be true, but you’ve still left me with the ultimate bargaining chip; a bargaining chip with which I could break you…”

“He’s bluffing,” disparaged Gwaine tiredly, “Poor fool doesn’t know when to quit.”

Arthur wanted nothing more than to just ignore the imposter. His stomach still churned to see Merlin puppet to such malicious magic. But he couldn’t let his guard down. Merlin was depending on them. He couldn’t afford to let him down again. Arthur stared pensively at the prisoner, whose gaze softened becoming almost thoughtful.

“For all your flaws, you really do care, don’t you?” the captive mused, “You don’t want to see him suffer. Despite an unfortunate history, you really have tried to protect poor little Merlin.”

“Though evidently you didn’t try hard enough,” the imposter tacked on with a self-satisfied smirk.

Arthur could feel the hairs raise on the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure he liked the path the serpent was taking.

“He cares for you a lot too, you know? Even still I can feel him fighting, keeping things from me. Keeping _it_ from me. His last little fight to protect you,” he hissed, voice once more turning bitter.

A spark of hope lit in Arthur’s heart. His mind briefly caught on what Merlin could possibly be keeping from the serpent, but that didn’t matter. Merlin was still in there. Merlin was still fighting.

The serpent all but scoffed at his quietly hopeful expression.

“Tell me good knights, who has control over Merlin’s fate at this moment? Where would all that fight go if I just decided to stop breathing?” 

The clearing had never felt more cold as panic seized Arthur, his wide eyes meeting Gwaine’s equally frenzied expression across the hollow. Elyan gave a shout of alarm, his own gaze transfixed on the prisoner’s unmoving chest. Cold fear ran through Arthur’s veins. 

Merlin wasn’t breathing.

“So what will it be,” challenged the serpent, a breathless edge to his voice, “Let me loose or watch as I slowly destroy your dearest friend from the inside out?”

Arthur stared numbly at the face of his friend, mind screaming at him to do something as his body froze up. Panicked voices fought for his attention, but everything seemed to be moving too fast to focus.

He staggered slightly as a gentle force pushed him aside. Arthur could only gawk as Percival strode forward, expression unreadable as he made his way to the bound man. The serpent gave him a smug look as the large knight bent down to face him.

CRACK! 

A shocked silence fell. With a dull thud, the prisoner slumped unconscious against the tree. Percival shook his hand, a large fist shaped bruise already forming on Merlin’s temple. The knights cast the normally gentle giant an incredulous look. As if by way of explanation, Percival gestured pointedly at the prisoner. Under their stunned gaze, Merlin’s chest rose and fell. Arthur could have passed out in relief.

“Why the hell didn’t we do that earlier!?” spluttered Gwaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some godforsaken peace and quiet! Things can only get better from here, right? Next chapter might be a bit on the late side as things are starting to get busy here again. Hang tight, it'll get done eventually!


	6. Eye of the Storm

Arthur stared mutely at the scene before him, the knights visibly relaxing as they each reassured themselves of Merlin’s safety. He wondered idly how long it would take for his own heart rate to finally return to normal.

Gwaine cautiously stalked forward, letting out an appreciative whistle as he inspected the prisoner’s head. 

“That was a hell of a swing Percy!”

The knight in question shuffled awkwardly, a bashful expression colouring his face as the rest of the knights continued to cast him incredulous looks. 

“That being said,” added Elyan, tone bordering on motherly, “You are sure he’ll be able to... wake up from that. I mean, he’s not the most sturdy guy. It sounded rather-”

Percival’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no it sounded a lot worse than it was!” he assured, soft gaze filling with horror at the prospect of such a thing, “I used to be muscle at a pretty rowdy tavern. You learn pretty quick how hard you can hit someone to knock them out, without causing any serious harm.”

Elyan gave a satisfied nod, posture relaxing somewhat. Blinking dumbly at the knights, Arthur made a mental note to ask Percival about his mysterious past sometime.

“We should settle in for the night,” Arthur muttered, some of his confidence returning to him, “It’ll be dark soon and I doubt we’d be able to make much progress tonight.”

Gwaine gave a thoughtful nod.

“You’re right. As much as I want to get Merlin back to Gaius, it’d be foolhardy trying to get through this forest in the dark.”

Arthur hummed in agreement, casting the knight a wary look. He wasn't about to acknowledge it aloud, but his confidence in the man had been somewhat shaken by the events of the past few minutes. Gwaine could be a bit of a loose cannon, but he’d not been on the other end of it so seriously for a long time.

Leon interrupted his train of thought with a tired sigh.

“I’ll get a fire going,” he declared, “It looks like we’re in for a long night. Don’t forget, we’re going to have to _keep_ Merlin unconscious…”

The knights collectively winced, casting a concerned glance at the bound man.

“Poor Merlin is gonna have a killer headache when he wakes up…” mused Elyan.

Arthur grimaced.

“Well, it’s certainly better than the alternative.”

“Besides,” muttered Gwaine, running a hand through his hair, ”his chatter was starting to get on my nerves.” 

Leon halted in his tracks, turning to face the knight with an accusing finger.

“Yeah, about that… A _noble_ ? Really?!”

Gwaine offered him a meek smile.

“Surprise,” he muttered, with all the enthusiasm of a record keeper at a council meeting.

Arthur looked him over with a critical eye, a part of him breaking to see the enthusiastic knight so timid.

“Why did you never say anything?”

Gwaine sighed.

“You didn’t need to know. There’s a reason I left that life behind, and to be perfectly honest I’d rather not think about it. Easier to just leave it behind and start anew, you know? Caerleon left us for the dogs when my father died, so I’d rather not be associated with the whole thing. Nobility is not exactly something I’ve ever had the fondest impression of.”

“I’m sorry,” offered Arthur.

“No, I’m sorry too,” Gwaine interrupted, “I didn’t exactly have your back through that whole thing. I let him get the better of me, more than once! It’s a sorry excuse of a knight to turn on his king so easily, and a sorry excuse of a friend too... Merlin would call me a right prat.”

Arthur’s gaze softened, heartened to hear the knight acknowledge the very thing that had been quietly eating him up.

“It’s ok, Gwaine. Really, I understand. I know how close you and Merlin are. You were just trying to protect him.”

“But past a certain point that’s a poor excuse,” rebutted the knight, “I really am sorry… And I’m sorry about your mother too.”

Arthur cast his gaze out towards the trees, unwilling to let the knight see the mistiness which threatened to cloud his vision.

“I think deep down I knew,” the king murmured, voice wavering slightly, “I think I knew that Morgause spoke the truth, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe it’s for the best that I finally face up to what my father did…”

Gwaine cast him a pitying look.

“We should get some sleep. We won’t be much use to Merlin in this state.”

Arthur nodded, thankful for the change of topic as he swiped a hand over his face.

“I’m not sure how well I’ll sleep after all _that_ ,” shuddered Elyan, with a pointed look over at Merlin’s deceptively still form.

“That makes all of us,” agreed Gwaine, “I’ll take first watch.”

Arthur cast him a grateful nod, shaking himself from his stupor. He couldn’t afford to sulk at a time like this.

“We’ll move out at first light. Whoever’s on watch will have to make sure Merlin doesn’t wake up. If he looks like he’s stirring…”

Everyone’s eyes drifted to the dark bruise colouring Merlin’s temple.

“You know what to do,” continued Arthur, sounding clipped.

\- - -

Arthur wasn’t sure why he’d expected to get any sleep. But if the rustling throughout the clearing was anything to go by, he was far from the only one who sleep was eluding. He struggled to suppress a sigh. Camelot was perhaps only a day’s journey away. It’d be tough going, but Arthur was sure no one would complain about their urgency. One more day. They could hang on for one more day. Or at least he hoped so…

Rolling to face away from the fire, Arthur cast his senses out in a quiet attempt to pick out the sound of Merlin’s breathing against the nighttime sounds of the forest. Logic told him he’d be too far away to hear it. Another part of him just needed to reassure himself of the servant’s safety. But the only sound that greeted him was the rustle of leaves. Rather noisy rustling, come to think of it. 

Scanning the camp perimeter, his eyes fell on a dark shadow over the crest of a nearby slope. Arthur frowned slightly. Sure, perhaps he was a little more on edge than normal, but he could have sworn that shadow was human shaped. Blinking, he attempted to clear his vision. 

He considered attempting to wake one of the others, but he still wasn’t quite sure what he was actually seeing. It was dark afterall. 

A voice behind him caught him off guard.

“I see it too,” whispered Gwaine, apparently picking up on Arthur’s restlessness, his eyes watching in the same direction.

“I think I saw a couple more figures deeper in the forest too,” he added, voice still low, “I’m thinking bandits.”

Arthur suppressed a groan. Great, that was exactly what they needed.

Quietly Gwaine and Arthur set about alerting the rest of the camp, only half of which were even asleep to begin with. Readying his sword, Arthur held up his fist in signal to the knights. _On my mark._

Sensing the jig was up and apparently still liking their chances, a rank of black clad men broke through the treeline, eyes flashing greedily and belts almost ridiculously adorned with knives.

“I take it you won’t be parting with your possessions so easily then?” goaded one, seeming undeterred by the sword wielding men.

With a tight smirk Arthur remembered that their red cloaks were stashed in their saddlebags, hiding any hint of their knighthood. These bandits apparently had almost worse luck than them.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur deadpanned, letting his fist fall towards the intruders.

The knights surged forwards, swords clashing with those of the bandits. Arthur met the man who’d threatened them head on, parrying the incoming blow with a growl. Swiftly arcing his sword back, he pulled in close, thumping the bandit over the head with the butt of his sword. The man staggered, off balance. Another downward slash sent the previously smug bandit crashing to the ground. 

Arthur took a moment's pause, trained eyes counting six intruders. He cursed as he ducked an incoming crossbow bolt. Make that seven. 

Either side of him the knights appeared to be having similar success. Though somewhat sleep-addled, they’d managed to force the bandits to the edge of the hollow and at least two of the invaders appeared to be down for the count. _Good,_ he mused, _the further away they could get them from camp, and Merlin, the better._ Giving himself a shake, Arthur made a dash for the bowman.

Eyes apparently focused on his next target, the bowman completely missed the blonde knight charging towards him. Arthur caught him in the side with his sword. Off guard the man turned, dropping the crossbow and reeling backwards as his hands scrabbled for his dagger. Arthur drew his arm back before striking the bandit in the face with the flat of his blade. The man collapsed, dazed but not quite unconscious.

Flicking his gaze up, Arthur noted that the rest of the knights seemed to have driven off the remaining bandits, those that survived fleeing with their tails between their legs. Returning his focus to the situation at hand, Arthur leveled his sword at the neck of the downed man.

“Who sent you?” he growled, expression cold.

“N-no one!” cried the man, eyes wide and nose bloodied, “I swear! We just saw your gear and figured we could turn a tidy profit!”

Arthur opened his mouth to continue only to be interrupted by a cry from behind him.

He glanced up in annoyance, but his irritation quickly faded into horror as his gaze fell on the source of the alarm. He didn’t even care that the bandit scrambled away as he distractedly let his sword fall.

The knights stood in a scattered circle, eyes transfixed on a tree across the camp.

Loose rope hung limply around its base. Its decidedly _empty_ base...

A red neckerchief fluttered in the breeze a few feet away.

“Shit,” muttered Arthur with great feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Uni’s been a tad hectic lately. Have a slightly longer chapter this week as thanks for being so patient. We’re really getting to the nitty-gritty now!


	7. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the bandit attack, Arthur and the knights deal with the ramifications of Merlin's escape.

The clearing felt like it would collapse under the weight of the silence as five sets of horrified eyes stared at the vacant bonds.

“No no no no NO!” exclaimed Arthur, voice finally engaging as he rushed forward to grab the discarded neckerchief.

For an agonising moment all he could do was stare at it, frustration and desperation bubbling just beneath the surface. Tearing his gaze from the dull fabric he peered bleakly at the surrounding vegetation.

Nothing. 

Not even the wind seemed to stir the suddenly imposing forest.

Arthur spun, agitated, as a loud crash sounded from behind him followed by a cry of pain. Sword already in hand, he hesitated as his eyes located the source. Gwaine stumbled backwards cradling his foot, seething gaze on his opponent; a sturdy log which lay alongside the hollow. The king let out a quietly relieved sigh. Seemed he wasn’t the only one who frustration was getting the better of.

“Damn it all!” cried Gwaine, seemingly to solidify his point.

“How did this even happen?” muttered Leon, voice unusually low.

Arthur sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“I don’t know…”

The rope looked almost as though it had been cut, but where Merlin had gotten hold of a blade was beyond him. Arthur covered his face with his hands, trying with every fibre of his being to prevent letting out a frustrated shout.

“He can’t have gotten far,” noted Percival, tone far less optimistic than his words would suggest.

“I’m not seeing any trail,” countered Elyan, eyes scanning the nearby forest floor, “Save for the ones left by the bandits, but those are all so muddled there’d be no point in following them anyway.”

Arthur had come to a similar conclusion, having been conducting a brief search of his own. The adrenaline from the battle seemed to drain from his system at the realisation, leaving him feeling cold and fragile. The man had disappeared without a trace.

“Oh hell, we’ve lost him!” grieved Gwaine, seeing his king’s shoulders slump.

“I’m not sure there’s any way of knowing where he’s gone,” lamented Percival, with a sad huff.

Arthur paused. _That didn’t sound quite right_. His brow furrowed as the gears began to turn in his brain. Stiffening abruptly, he whirled to face the group, a slight flicker of madness in his eye.

“Well hang on,” he interrupted, “That’s not entirely true is it?”

“Sire?” questioned Leon.

“Merlin claimed the fomorroh only had one goal behind its creation,” the king continued, “Tell me, how is it going to manage to kill me if it’s not even here?”

Anxious realisation sparked in the eyes of the knights.

“He’ll have no choice but to come right back to us,” concluded Elyan, disconcerted.

“Exactly!” replied Arthur, finger pointed at the knight, “What we’re looking at here is a waiting game.”

Percival frowned.

“You mean an ambush?”

“What end of that ambush are _we_ on?” pointed out Gwaine.

Arthur faltered somewhat, unease beginning to eat at his composure.

“At least we know what we’re working with… There’s only so much he can do. If we stay put we can prepare for whatever he throws at us.”

The knights muttered nervously amongst themselves. They were short on options.

“I’m not gonna claim to like this, but what did you have in mind?” Gwaine pressed.

Arthur straightened, a semblance of control returning to his demeanor.

“We’ll work with what we know; the facts. Anything that can give us the upper hand. For one, what do we even know about this serpent?” 

“That’s a fair point,” pondered Leon, “I mean, does it make him stronger, or is this just Merlin?” 

Percival shook his head, brow furrowed in thought.

“From what I’ve heard in my travels, a fomorroh can only use skills and strengths a victim already has…”

“And you’re sure about that?” questioned Arthur skeptically.

“No, he’s right,” confirmed Gwaine, “It’d probably push him to his limits in terms of endurance and whatnot, but he’s not going to be all powerful or anything.”

“So we have a pretty big advantage then!” enthused Elyan, sounding equal parts excited and desperate.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. 

“So it would seem… That makes it a matter of us against Merlin. Physically we’ll have the upper hand. His tendency to run his mouth might be our biggest concern. Our luck might be changing.” 

Gwaine scoffed quietly. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Care to share?” he deadpanned.

Gwaine gave the group a wry smile.

“I doubt our luck will last long if we underestimate Merlin so completely.”

Arthur grimaced. He was no fool. While he’d never be caught admitting it, he knew Merlin wasn’t utterly hopeless. That being said, facing off against five highly trained knights; well, to say the odds were against the servant would be an understatement.

“Maybe so,” prompted Arthur, quietly curious to see what the roguish knight had on his mind, “but what could he realistically have on us?” 

“Well he’s stealthy, that’s for sure,” exclaimed Gwaine, “Not to mention the man has some serious speed going for him!”

Four pairs of bewildered and outright disbelieving eyes met Gwaine’s.

“I’m sorry, _Merlin_?!” baulked Arthur.

Gwaine met his eyes with unyielding confidence.

“Did I stutter? Some of you have never watched him and it shows.”

“I’ve watched him trip over his own feet!” retorted Arthur.

“I’ve watched him break out of the Camelot dungeons… Twice,” deadpanned Gwaine.

The knights stopped short. Arthur opened his mouth to counter, but found himself at a loss.

“That’s… Well that might be a fair point,” he conceded quietly, a weak attempt to keep from gaping like a fish.

The knights, who had looked similarly ready to dismiss Gwaine’s argument, stiffened at their king’s admission, tense silence falling over the camp. A nervous look passed between the trio who almost synchronously turned to peered over their shoulders as if Merlin might have snuck behind them at that very moment...

_CRUNCH!_

If asked later, Leon would claim he reacted to the sound like a champ, and that he’d definitely not nearly jumped out of his skin. Needless to say, he would have been lying.

Gwaine resisted a smirk as the startled group whirled to face him. Raising an eyebrow, he went to take another bite of his apple, earning him a stern look from Arthur.

“What?” the knight queried defensively, “We didn’t get the chance to have dinner.”

“Besides,” Gwaine continued through his mouthful of apple, “I said Merlin was stealthy, I didn’t say he was the boogie man. You lot look like you’re about to jump out of your boots! He’s still just one man.”

Arthur sighed, giving Gwaine one final glare.

“He’s right. This is still just Merlin we’re dealing with. It’ll do us just as much damage to overestimate him as it would to underestimate him.”

“So what else have we got?” questioned Elyan, anxiety creeping into his tone despite his best attempt to regain his composure, “He won’t take us on with speed and stealth alone. He can’t really fight, can he?”

“He’s watched us train,” prompted Leon.

“Not sure he’s any good himself though,” tacked on Percival.

“I don’t think that’s the trouble,” mused Arthur, picking up on Leon’s train of thought, “He may not be well trained, but he sure knows how _we_ fight.”

“Damn,” muttered Gwaine, “Fair point.”

Elyan snapped his fingers, an idea lighting his gaze.

“But he doesn’t really care about the rest of us, does he? You said it yourself Arthur; he’s after you. _You’re_ his focus. We can use that to our advantage!”

Gwaine in any other context might have looked amused, but instead he just eyed the king with disconcerting calculation.

“We can take him down with Arthur as our bait.”

The king frowned at Gwaine’s choice of wording but had little better to contribute. The knights looked towards him eagerly.

“That’s dumb enough that it might just work, “ he conceded with a huff, a shred of anxiety tightening around his heart, “That being said, you are not to injure Merlin if you can avoid it. This is as much about saving him as it is about saving me. Got it?”

The knights nodded determinedly as Gwaine cast the king a look of quiet pride.

“Now let’s get to work,” shouted Arthur, “I want eyes on the forest at all times. This snake is not slipping through our net!”

\- - -

It was just before dawn when commotion through the trees shattered the fragile silence of the camp.

Arthur had barely the chance to jump to his feet before the drumming of hooves deafened the hollow. Barely a moment later a stampede of panicked horses charged into the clearing, dry leaves and dust kicking up in their wake. Arthur shouted in alarm as the steeds careened frantically around the campfire. A strong hand gripped his wrist, dragging him defensively behind a tree before he could fall victim to the stallions’ hooves. His wide eyes met Gwaine’s. 

Flicking his gaze back to the camp, he caught the tell tale flutter of a Pendragon red cloak on the flank of one of the riderless horses. He grit his teeth in frustration. They were their horses; turned loose and whipped up into a terrified frenzy. Finding an opening, the lead horse made a dash from the clearing, the others following hot on its trail.

Shielding his face from the dust left in the steeds’ wake, Arthur stumbled forward into the clearing; grit addled and manic eyes hunting for the silhouette he knew was sure to follow in the shadow of the disruption. He was not to be disappointed.

Atop the ridge stood a terribly familiar figure, face drawn into a smirk simultaneously dangerous and hungry. Arthur's heart backflipped as Merlin’s inhuman gaze met his own.

The assassin had come for his prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that took a bit longer than anticipated! Safe to say my schedule has been solidly thrown out the window. Don't worry this absolutely will get finished, it's just a matter of finding time. Thanks to those of you who have stuck with this!


	8. Hellbent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Atop the ridge stood a terribly familiar figure, face drawn into a smirk simultaneously dangerous and hungry. Arthur's heart backflipped as Merlin’s inhuman gaze met his own._
> 
> _The assassin had come for his prey._

The knife came out of nowhere.

Merlin’s gaze barely so much as shifted before a cold whistle cut the air followed by a cry of pain. A panicked shout told him Percival had taken the hit, but Arthur couldn’t even move, gaze fixed on his hunter. 

Arthur’s eyes widened as he watched the imposter draw back his arm once more with lightning speed and practised ease. Dangerous was not a word he’d have ever used in the same sentence as Merlin’s name previously, but there was no ignoring the thrill of fear that coursed through his veins as he stood rooted before the man.

Another whistle.

Another thud. 

Elyan clutched at his arm, sword falling from his grip with a shout. Arthur whirled just in time to see Gwaine deflect a third blade, which glanced erratically off his sword in a dizzying arc of chrome. The knight’s eyes met Arthur’s, seemingly asking the same question his were; _Since when could Merlin throw knives like that?!_

Glancing back at the man in question, Arthur watched as Merlin pulled out yet another already bloodied knife. A sudden hand of dread clutched at his heart. It would seem the fleeing bandits hadn’t made it far at all. Though he doubted they’d parted with their knives of their own accord.

Merlin took a swaggering step forward.

“Well well… Fancy meeting you here.”

 _Melodramatic bastard_ , thought Arthur bitterly as he unconsciously stepped forward to meet his opponent. 

Arthur cast a cautious glance over his shoulder. The initial attack had stolen their advantage from them and left them far more vulnerable than they could have anticipated. Percival leaned heavily against a tree, expression pained as Gwaine pressed a bloodied hand to his side. Elyan looked slightly better but his sword arm hung awkwardly by his side, blood flowing freely where the knife remained lodged in his shoulder. The knights eyed Merlin with a wary mix of apprehension and determination.

Arthur grit his teeth. The situation had already left them short on options and he wasn’t eager to be down any more knights. They desperately needed to gauge what they were up against. Taking a deep breath, he took another step into the ruined camp.

“Arthur,” cautioned Leon, starting forward slightly.

“Stand down,” commanded the king.

Merlin’s smirk grew yet wider.

“Done hiding behind your daddy’s men then are we?”

Arthur’s gaze boiled.

“This ends now.”

In an instant Merlin was upon him, knife driving towards his chest with dizzying speed. Alarm surged in Arthur as he instinctively intercepted the blade, only just managing to block the dagger with his sword. The king drew backwards, eyes wide and ears deaf to the frightened shouts of the knights. 

Merlin grinned wolfishly as he made up the ground between them, deftly flipping the blade in his hand to point downwards. Tearing forward the assassin tried to slash across his target’s chest before thrusting the dagger down towards Arthur’s shoulder. The king twisted awkwardly, swordsmanship struggling under such close quarters. He pivoted away from the blade, sword catching on the guard of the knife and sending it skittering out of the would-be assassin’s hand. Merlin stumbled, teetering on the edge of the dying campfire as he attempted to recover his balance.

Instinctively Arthur made a swing for the man’s undefended side. Horror seized him as his mind caught-up to what he was doing. He attempted to pull back his attack, but too late. 

A hollow thunk echoed through the clearing. Arthur glanced up in surprise, eyes falling on a charred length of wood which had met his sword. Embers danced in the air between the opponents, light reflecting in Merlin’s hungry gaze. With a smirk the hunter pushed forward, campfire-gotten weapon still smouldering in his hand.

Merlin swung the sturdy stick with renewed determination, a powerful lunge sending yet more cinders spiralling skyward where it met Arthur’s blade. The aggression alone had Arthur playing defense, faltering as he lost ground under the fiery onslaught. Something terrifying glinted in Merlin’s eye as he thrust the searing branch forward once more. This time Arthur was ready, swiftly deflecting the attack off to his side in a hope to send his opponent stumbling. But Merlin was learning too. In one smooth motion he swivelled, stance quickly righting. 

That was all Arthur needed. Taking advantage of Merlin’s hesitation he arced his blade downwards. The assassin’s eyes widened as he raised his fiery weapon in defense.

CRACK!

The branch cleaved, embers exploding from its shattered frame as the cinder-strewn weapon tumbled into the leaf litter. 

Merlin staggered back with a hiss, hand raised to his cheek. Volatile anger writhed in his eyes as he removed a bloodied hand from his face, a shallow cut running beneath his eye. 

Letting out a growl, he thrust his hands forward. Arthur instinctively flinched backwards, mind recognising an action he’d seen from so many sorcerers. Merlin’s eyes flickered, but not the gold he’d expected of magic users. Instead the swirl of light seemed dampened, suppressed somehow. Arthur almost wondered if his mind was just playing tricks on him; trying to fill in the blanks of what previous battles had taught him to expect. But nothing happened. No surge of magical energy… Nothing. Arthur’s relief surprised even himself. Did he really expect something to happen? Merlin didn’t _have_ magic! 

The servant doubled over with a shout, palms pressed to the sides of his head as his face twisted with pain. Cursing, the imposter staggered backwards, an unstable mix of pain and rage colliding in his gaze. 

Merlin had done this. He was fighting back. Arthur was sure of it. 

The king took a cautious step forward. 

“Merlin?”

A sudden flash of flame illuminated the hollow sending Arthur lurching backwards with a shout. His brain immediately jumped to magic, but as he blinked the spots from his vision, his gaze caught on Gwaine’s discarded bottle of spirits lying a short ways from the campfire. _Shit…_ Merlin’s shattered weapon must have sent embers all through the dry leaves of the clearing, which flames now began to gobble up greedily.

“Well that’s just perfect,” Arthur muttered bitterly under his breath.

Casting his eyes back across the camp, he grimaced. It seemed Merlin had taken advantage of his distraction to grab Elyan’s fallen sword which he now held casually rested on his shoulder. The imposter flashed him a fiendish grin.

“Are you just going to stand there all day, sire? Or are we actually going to finish this?”

Arthur’s expression turned stormy, firelight flickering in his eyes.

“Leon, Gwaine, on me!”

The pair quickly fanned out either side of him, the latter casting him a look that shouted, _about damn time!_ Meanwhile, Leon glanced anxiously at the flames which licked at the far side of camp.

Undeterred, Merlin charged.

Arthur faltered under the flurry of attacks, the two knights moving defensively to his flanks as they struggled to cut into the skirmish.

It’d be obvious to anyone that Merlin was no trained swordsman, but his sheer determination and unorthodox fighting style were enough to make him dangerous. Arthur grunted as he intercepted another hit. The king may have been highly trained, but Merlin was proving near impossible to predict as he whirled and swung with disorienting aggression.

The pair locked blades, disengaging with a forceful shove. Merlin slid backwards, almost colliding with Gwaine. The knight raised his sword intending to slam the butt of the weapon into the servant’s exposed temple, but Merlin was too quick. Ducking down, he deftly raised his sword to meet his friend’s waiting blade.

Gwaine scowled, stepping back. Subtly he changed his grip. Arthur’s eyes widened, recognising the set-up of the disarming move he’d been on the receiving end of so many times. Gwaine’s flame-lit blade twisted as it collided with the imposter’s, but moved no further. Merlin gave him an icy grin as the knight found his blade lodged fast against the guard of his opponent’s sword. The knight stared at the blades, stunned.

Merlin darted away, tearing once more towards the king. Arthur levelled his sword defensively only to be halted as Leon stepped forward to block the imposter’s attack. Merlin growled as he started back, foot catching on a small smouldering log. His furious eyes darted between Leon and Gwaine, who had quickly placed themselves at his peripherals. 

It all happened so quickly. Merlin feinted toward Gwaine before pivoting, kicking the searing log upward at the other knight. Leon stumbled back with a shout as the blistering heat of the wood caught his leg. But Merlin’s momentum had not slowed. Full tilt, he lunged at the distracted knight, knocking him hard onto the ground. Leon cast his alarmed gaze upwards, unable to ignore the pressure that sat atop his chest. Malicious eyes leered down at him, a raised sword flickering in the firelight. _Oh god, he was going to die like this!_

Gwaine ran at the attacker with a roar, tackling the smaller man who pitched sideways tumbling off of the fallen Leon. Pushing himself up from the dirt, Gwaine cast a glance towards the assassin. Merlin had scrambled backwards, his venomous gaze meeting Gwaine’s across a barrier of flame. The knight straightened in alarm, eyes darting around the clearing.

The far side of the camp had been completely consumed by fire. Elyan and Percival edged backwards, leaning against each other heavily as the flames crept outwards. _Already?! That couldn’t be natural._ Heat rose against his hand.

“Gwaine!” Arthur’s panicked voice cried.

The knight jumped back as fire swept in front of him. _No, definitely not natural._ Gwaine narrowed his eyes. Merlin only gave him a teasing wave before darting from his sight.

“ _Gwaine_ , fall back!” called the king, “We can’t stay here!”

The knight didn’t even need to feel the hot wind on his neck to know that Arthur was right. Merlin was out of reach and should they wait much longer, Elyan and Percival wouldn’t stand a chance at escaping the blaze in their injured state. Arthur’s voice rang through the clearing.

“Leon, Gwaine! Help the others to the river.”

Gwaine whirled on the king.

“Wait, what about you?”

“It’s _me_ he’s after. I’ll keep him busy while you make your retreat.”

 _Why am I surrounded by such self-sacrificing assholes_ , Gwaine resisted saying aloud as he held back an eye-roll. He turned over his shoulder.

“Elyan, can you walk?”

“Uh, yeah,” called back the injured knight.

“Perfect! Leon, if you help Percy, I can try my darndest to make sure Princess here doesn’t get himself killed!”

Arthur spluttered.

“Gwaine, this isn’t up for debate!”

“You’ve got that right.”

“I’m serious!”

“And so am I!” rebuffed Gwaine, “You and I both know this is personal, so stop pretending like I’m just going to leave you here to deal with it alone.”

Arthur held his gaze, desperation giving way to determination.

“Fine…” he groused, “Leon, Elyan, Percival go!”

Leon gave Gwaine a thankful nod before dashing towards the injured pair.

Arthur and Gwaine turned to stand back to back as smoke choked the hollow.

“You are such an ass,” muttered Arthur over his shoulder, tone slightly relieved despite his exasperation.

“Birds of a feather gotta stick together.”

Arthur let out an amused huff.

They weren’t down just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope those lads have a plan! 
> 
> This chapter might have gotten away from me a tad! Turns out fights are a lot of fun to write, though I fear I got a bit caught up in semantics. Whoops! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
